For the Love of Hair
by semperfortis
Summary: "Aramis' eyebrows disappeared into his own hair as he laughed, before reaching across the table to grab the object from Athos. He twirled it around, admiring it from every angle, while d'Artagnan looked as if he wanted to bolt from there." D'Artagnan discovers that it's better to accept than to complain.


**Hello! *crazy octopus wave* This is most certainly not sad like my previous Musketeer scribbling...hope you like it. :-)  
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14/10/14

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><p><strong>For the Love of Hair<strong>

"D'Artagnan, stop whining. It will be easier if you accept it," the gentle but firm tone left no room for argument, yet d'Artagnan found himself opening his mouth to complain. However, before he could make a sound, Athos glared at him with his customary 'I-cannot-believe-you-are-seriously-going-to-attempt-to-argue-with-me' look. All d'Artagnan could think about right now was the comments that his currently absent two friends made about this particular glare, and it was not at all helpful in his unfortunate predicament. Aramis was convinced that Athos practised the glare in front of the mirror every day, otherwise how else would it be so knee-trembling? Porthos, on the other hand, liked to say that this glare was Athos' natural expression anyway, so no need for him to practise. Of course, such things were never mentioned in the presence of said glarer - his friends quite liked having all their limbs in the correct places, thank you very much, although, d'Artagnan was sure that Athos knew exactly what his fellow Musketeers thought.

"I'm not going to whine, I mean, complain. I only want to know why?" asked d'Artagnan as he glanced at the object in Athos' right hand. D'Artagnan had just recovered from injuries induced by their latest mission (which involved an irate Duke, a charmed daughter of a Duke, and a not too pleased Captain who cursed the day a drunk, a gambler, a charmer, and a farm boy became his best soldiers), and so he believed that his concussion-recovered head should be allowed to remain as it is unless if there was good reason.

"Why?" repeated Athos.

"Yes, why?"

"Why?" Athos asked as he tilted his head.

"Yes, why?" This time, d'Artagnan drew out the 'why' as long as possible, as if hoping that this would push Athos into answering.

"Why?"

"Really, Athos? Just tell me, why?" Exasperation, meet your new friend. D'Artagnan wondered whether it was Athos who had actually suffered from concussion instead of himself.

"That is what I am asking. Why do you want to know 'why'?"

D'Artagnan blinked a couple of times in quick succession. "What?"

"From 'why' to 'what', now?" When asked later, Athos would insist that a smirk wasn't gracing his features, but they all knew that it most certainly had been a smirk.

D'Artagnan sighed heavily before trying again. "What I mean is, why do I have to have this?"

"Is it not enough that we, that is to say, mainly Aramis, wish it?"

"Yes, but why? It's just a-"

A loud voice interrupted d'Artagnan before he could finish. "Don't even think about completing that sentence, otherwise Aramis will shave your pretty hair when you're asleep," the man sounded too happy with the statement and grinned as he sat down at the table. Athos nodded in welcome, and this time, even he could not deny that he was smirking when d'Artagnan's hands immediately reached for his precious locks as if to protect them from Porthos' 'bad words'.

D'Artagnan flushed as he realised that his action had not gone unnoticed by either of his companions, and he quickly placed his hands on the table as casually as he could manage. Aramis would never do that, especially not after d'Artagnan had just recovered from his injuries…would he?

"Er, so what if he does?" the nonchalant shrug of his shoulders did not fool his friends.

Porthos leaned in closer to d'Artagnan and whispered in his ear. "Do you really want to lose all of that hair? And maybe even more?"

D'Artagnan gulped. "Aramis wouldn't really do that."

"I would not do what?"

D'Artagnan froze as he heard Aramis' voice, while Athos and Porthos smiled at Aramis (Athos' was more of a slight turn of the lips which almost unnoticeable as a smile, unless you knew him well).

"Um, nothing," d'Artagnan muttered quickly.

Aramis raised his eyebrows questioningly before taking a seat next to his young friend. "Come now, d'Artagnan. You can tell me," he clapped a hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder and this time raised his eyebrows in surprise as d'Artagnan flinched ever so slightly. Aramis turned back to his other friends to ask them what was wrong when he noticed the object in Athos' hand.

"Athos, my friend, may I ask why you are still in possession of this beautiful piece of art?"

Porthos snorted. "'Art'?"

"Yes, 'art'," Aramis said with a solemn nod and gestured at the object before continuing, "This has been wonderfully made and deserves no less than to be called 'art'. But we are digressing. D'Artagnan, perhaps you are better suited to answer my question?"

D'Artagnan glanced at the object before shaking his head.

"I think he is worried about his hair," Athos said quietly, with a soft smirk.

Aramis' eyebrows disappeared into his own hair as he laughed, before reaching across the table to grab the object from Athos. He twirled it around, admiring it from every angle, while d'Artagnan looked as if he wanted to bolt from there. The only thing keeping him still was the thought that he would never live it down if he fled for such a petty reason.

"I cannot see why d'Artagnan should worry about his hair when he has this beautiful creation to love," Aramis smiled innocently as his eyes sparkled with mischief. Identical smirks were shared between the three older Musketeers (yes, even Athos properly smirked, although, perhaps Porthos' was more of a wolfish grin), and Aramis promptly placed the object on d'Artagnan's head. In return, Aramis received a groan from his young friend and then a thud as d'Artagnan' head hit the table as he accepted his fate.

Three voices hissed "Careful!" while Aramis pulled d'Artagnan back.

"Oh, yes, sorry. I don't want to be concussed again," d'Artagnan said sheepishly as he avoided the glares from his three friends.

"Concussion? No, my dear friend, we don't want you to ruin your new look!"

D'Artagnan stared at Aramis in disbelief who looked very smug, as if he has just won a shooting contest. D'Artagnan rolled his eyes before getting up to leave. He needed to see his beloved horse, who was sure to be feeling neglected as d'Artagnan's injuries had kept him away, and with a shake of his head and one last smile to his friends, he headed towards the stables.

"And don't even think about 'losing' it!" Aramis called after him, "I know where you live and when you sleep, and I have a very good pair of scissors!"

Before d'Artagnan could turn around and reply, he came face to face with Treville.

"Captain," said d'Artagnan with a nod.

"D'Artagnan," Treville looked at his youngest recruit intently before speaking again. "May I compliment you on your choice of headwear? You look very handsome," Treville walked on leaving d'Artagnan gaping like a fish and his three friends laughing (Porthos, unable to contain his mirth was almost on the floor, Aramis had tears in his eyes, and Athos was only smiling, naturally).

D'Artagnan sighed in resignation. Perhaps the hat wasn't such a bad idea after all?

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><p><strong>So, let me know what you think. :-)<strong>


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